


I Owned Every Second

by Burning_Up_A_Sun



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F, First Time, Hot Sex, Oral Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex, Women Being Awesome, two women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 01:28:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Up_A_Sun/pseuds/Burning_Up_A_Sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Molly Hooper, who dreams of adventure, dinner with Anthea turns into sexual adventure and the promise of more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Owned Every Second

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic comes from a line in the OneRepublic song, I Lived. The characters solely belong to MG, SM, and ACD. I just borrow them for fun. Thanks to all. And thanks to my friends who've lived for months with this story that wouldn't behave.

People always misjudge Molly Hooper. They say, she's a wallflower. She blushes so easily. She's a...Rule Follower. Molly would shrug and let them talk. It doesn't matter what people said. **_They_** couldn't imagine Molly mastering an accelerated freefall course in Spain. Or snowboarding down the Alpes d'Huez. Or buying a motorcycle from that dodgy shop in Islington...To be fair, she hadn't done those things YET, but she was going to. To break all the rules and own every minute of her life.

Like, for example, the Chief Medical Examiner had a strict “No Music In The Morgue” policy. Were they going to disturb the dead? she thought as she plugged her iPhone into the bluetooth speaker she kept in her desk drawer. She worked the 3p-11p shift, and when she was alone she was Queen of the Morgue. No. That was a rubbish nickname.

Classic Rolling Stones filled the room while Mick Jagger's voice wrapped around her, like velvet and smooth whiskey and hot sex and Sherlock and...Oh my God. She was done with that, she reminded herself as she waggled her mouse to wake up the computer.

“It's already 8? Bollocks!” She said to Mick, who rasped out a song from the '80s. The Chief insisted on staying well past his usual 5pm departure to finish some report. Then it had taken her a bit to clean up the in-progress autopsy.

But now she was ready to settle into the paperwork. Lab coat unbuttoned, hair up in a haphazard bun held in place by an elastic. Music, loud. Molly pecked away at the computer while the music kept her company. After two hours of forms (and well, Facebook, even though she wasn't strictly allowed), she stretched and made a cup of black coffee. Hot and strong.

“Like my men!” she laughed out loud and went back to the computer, switching the playlist to “Dance Mix.” Pitbull slid over her, loud and filthy...

A sip of that dark, delicious...Shit. Forgot the sugar. She grabbed her cup and stood up, smacking right into...

“OH MY GOD, HOT HOT HOT HOT!” Molly yelled, as the coffee splashed over her dress and down her front.

Anthea stepped back, avoiding a stain on her bespoke suit or Ferragamo pumps. She searched Molly's desk for napkins, but came up empty handed. She grabbed the mug to prevent further scalding.

“What are you, a damn ninja? Bloody hell, that burns,” Molly said, grabbing her loose dress and billowing the front to cool her.

“I hardly had to employ ninja skills to surprise you,” Anthea sniffed. “Your music was loud enough to wake the dead. You didn't, did you?” she said, looking around for effect. “At least it was decent music. I took you for more of a Michael Bublé fan...”

“Is there something I can do for you?” Molly pointedly ignored the jibe.

“Mr. Holmes sent me.” Anthea didn't elaborate, since any further information was well below Ms. Hooper's clearance level.

“Anthea, I honestly don't know what you're talking about,” Molly said. ‘Bollocks. Had the Chief told _her_ to put the information together?

Anthea's fingers flew across the Blackberry keyboard. “The substance analysis? Are you actually in charge? No wonder New Scotland Yard is a mess.”

Molly's jaw dropped at that rudeness. “Out. Now. Whatever Mycroft Bloody Holmes needs, he can request through the proper channels.” Her tone dripped with 'shut the fuck up.'

Anthea stood straighter and tugged on her suit jacket. That wasn't supposed to happen. Molly Hooper was too timid to argue. Damn.

“I apologize. That was uncalled for. Mr. Holmes just explained that the Chief ME was providing the analysis of Moriarty's remains,” Anthea said, pointing to the mobile.

Molly stammered out a thank you, and said, “Oh-kay. Um, the chief doesn't always relay messages. I'll try to find...” her sentence trailed off, unfinished, as she walked away.

Anthea shook her head. Someone should teach Molly to stand up for herself. She's too timid. For an instant, as Anthea watched the sway of Molly's coat over that arse, she thought--how timid would Molly _really_ be. That hair pulled up in a messy bun at the back of her head. Would it fall below her shoulders if Anthea slipped the elastic from it? Long enough to drape against her breast, to brush her nipples? And those legs...even in sensible shoes, that woman's legs went on forever. 'Wrap those around my...'

“Do you need anything else?” Molly asked, offering the sealed oversized envelope.

At that moment, Molly Hooper's stomach growled. Not a diminutive mewl, but a jungle roar, fueled by a lack of food from her late breakfast until half ten pm.  

Anthea giggled, which then turned into a full belly laugh. “I'm sorry,” she said, covering her mouth to stop laughing. “But the same thing happened when I shadowed Mr. Holmes in a meeting with the Prime Minister.”

Anthea's easy laugh offended Molly, who was used to people making fun of her. But it _seemed_ good natured.

“Really?” Molly said, sitting down on the edge of her desk.

“Bloody hell! The PM offered me a biscuit from his plate and never missed a beat, but Mycroft scolded me. I am to eat a proper breakfast each morning.” She copied his grieved expression perfectly as she imitated his inflection.

Molly's stomach complained loudly again. “I need to eat,” Molly apologized as she cleaned up the remaining autopsy instruments and made sure that the cadaver was secured in storage so she could end her shift.

Anthea watched Molly work. Timid? Maybe, but this woman knew her job. And that was hot as hell, Anthea realized.

“Hey, I have a driver and a certain amount of clout courtesy of Mr. Holmes' name. Would you like to get something to eat? The driver can drop you at your flat after...”

Looking down at the stained dress, Molly said, “I couldn't. I'm a mess.”

“We're about the same size. I have extra clothes in the car. Please let me do this as a small apology,” Anthea coaxed.

At least a dozen reasons why she should say no jumped into Molly's mind. “As long as you're sure...” What?! Betrayed by my own mouth, Molly thought as they closed the office and walked toward the car.

“I'll change, too,” Anthea said, laying her hand on the small of Molly's back as they entered the car. She showed Molly a drawer built into the base of the car seat. “Mycroft had this modified for spare clothes because we work so many hours," she explained, as she shucked her Ferragamos and attempted to slide her fitted wool skirt over her hips. Molly gasped.

"I know," Anthea laughed at Molly's shock. "I'm a naughty girl not wearing knickers. But I like the way I feel in just a garter belt and stockings. This way, I'm always a little bit hot and ready to have a go, especially if I'm wearing trousers. Something with a good heavy inner seam that will rub me all day..." She mmmmm'd and raised an eyebrow at Molly, who laughed a little uncomfortably.

But not _all_ uncomfortably.

And Molly quickly realized the tight jeans Anthea changed into would indeed have a good heavy inner seam.

Anthea removed her suit jacket and unbuttoned her silk shirt. The shirt and skirt went into a hold all, leaving Anthea in a white camisole and skinny jeans that hugged her from arse to ankle. 

“Hmmmm. Jacket or just the camisole? What do you think?” Molly had no idea what she should think, but what she _was_ thinking she wouldn't repeat. Especially about the nipples pushing through the intimate camisole.

“Jacket, I think.” Molly's voice wavered, “And the heels. Not the flats.”

“Now for you,” Anthea scooted down to the drawer and settled on black jeans and a black scoop neck shirt for Molly. “These!”

Having seen Anthea unclothed, Molly knew they were NOT the same size. She was at least a size larger than Anthea.

“Don't be shy,” Anthea encouraged.

Slowly Molly opened each of the dozen buttons down the front of the spattered dress. The coffee didn't only stain, it stunk!

“Oh it stained your bra,” Anthea said, “and it does NOT smell good. C'mon, take it off.” Since the day her breasts budded, Molly Hooper had worn a bra and had never EVER gone outside without one.

Molly hesitated, and Anthea, with a practiced move, reached around and unhooked the bra. Molly's breasts tumbled out of the bra. “Isn't that better?” Anthea grabbed some wet wipes from the container in the clothing drawer and swabbed Molly's chest to dissipate the last of the coffee odor. Molly slid the shirt over her head and down. It fit snugly over her breasts, and rubbed her nipples when she moved. She knew they were going to be rock hard soon--very soon.

Anthea handed her the jeans. “There's no coffee on your knickers, but you don't really need them,” she smiled conspiratorially.

Because they were not her size, the pants would provide enough rub. No way she was going without knickers.  She wrestled with the pants in the close confines of the back seat, and when they were up and zipped and buttoned, and her feet tucked into Blahnik pumps, Molly admitted that she felt, well, audacious.

“Have you ever been to Les Liaisons Dangereuses? It's a new French bistro. It's difficult to get a table but I think we can swing one with Mycroft's name." She gave the address to the driver and turned back to Molly. Yes. Those clothes were perfect. Nothing timid or shy about the way they were painted onto Molly. Anthea smiled.

 “What? You're staring!”

“Everyone will be. You look delicious in that outfit,” Anthea said as Robert pulled up to the kerb.

Anthea slid out of the Mercedes and held her hand out to help Molly. She was glad for the help; in these heels, she wasn't even sure she could walk, let alone stand. Anthea spoke to the maitre d; Molly heard “Mycroft Holmes” and they were quickly escorted to the bar. Unfortunately, not even Mycroft could create an empty table in the overbooked dining area.

“We can stay at the bar,” Molly said, precariously balanced on a small barseat designed for aesthetics rather than comfort.

“We'll have the next available table,” Anthea said, flagging down the barman. “Two mojitos. Thanks.”

“I've never had one,” Molly said. “You know, I rarely drink.”

Anthea ran her hand over Molly's shoulder and back—Molly rolled her shoulders into the rub; it felt exquisite after the long day. “It's light, like Sprite, with just a hint of lime...” she said, as the barman put their drinks in front of them.

“...But go slow. They're stronger than they seem,” she trailed off, as Molly downed her drink in two draughts.

“That was delicious!” Molly said over Anthea's warning. She motioned for the barman again. “Two more, please!” as she nibbled from the bowl of nuts on the bar.

 “Be careful of the rum.” Anthea laughed as Molly drank half of her second drink at once. “You're going to get drunk really quickly on an empty stomach,” she warned.

“No, I'm good,” Molly said. “Just a long week, and now good company! Thank you for this!” She hugged Anthea and drew back, surprised at her impulsivity.

“So...” Anthea said close to Molly's ear to be heard. “I see the 'uh ohhhkay' girl, but I know you're more than that. Tell me about the you that lives inside...”

And Molly Hooper, eyes alive with excitement, hands almost hitting other patrons as she gestured, shared for the first time. Wanting to snowboard, to dodge boulders and trees, and maybe crash. Staying outside til there'd be no feeling in her nose or her fingers. Catching a huge wave and riding it to the sand. Buying a motorcycle from a dodgy shop...

“The one in Islington?!” Anthea gasped.

“Oh my God, YES! How do you even...”

“They work on mine! They're just so...dodgy”

...wanting to fly down the M1 at almost twice the 70mph speed limit on her motorcycle...

“In the end I want to say, I know I lived...that I owned every second of my own life,” Molly said, bewildered that Anthea was actually listening to her—even though some of her words weren't quite as...sober...as they should be.

“I understand,” Anthea reached for Molly's arm. “I'm tired of holding back who I am for the sake of others...”

Molly moved closer to Anthea, but almost slid off the bar seat.

“Oh, we came here so you could eat, and you've had two on an empty stomach!” Anthea helped Molly back onto the seat.

“Not empty! I had penis! Peanits! PeaNUTS,” Molly said, tipping over the barmix bowl as she tried to explain what she meant. 

“Oh dear, see? You had penis!”

“I like penises, but not to eat!” Molly laughed. “Know what else I like? Girls. I haven't yet, but it's on my list...” 

“Did. You. Just.”  “Well, you asked me to tell you stuff...” Molly giggled, from the mojitos or the freedom, she didn't really know. But she'd told this much and she'd seen the way Anthea looked at her, eating her up...She carefully stood and said, “now I'm gonna tell you...”

Molly wrapped her arms around Anthea's neck, pressing her body against the other woman's. She melted into Anthea's body, nuzzling her throat and ear, drawing in the faint aroma of jasmine and vanilla. “You smell amazing,” Molly said, her nose drifting up the woman's neck, behind her ear. 

“Chanel No. 5. A small gift from Mycroft,” Anthea said. Molly raised an eyebrow with implied meaning. “No, it's not like that. I work very hard and small gifts are a perquisite of my job. Plus, Mycroft prefers gentlemen.”

“What do you prefer?” Molly asked, tracing Anthea's outer ear with her tongue. In her LIFE, Molly had never asked a question like this or been so bold.

Anthea drew her head back and looked into Molly's eyes, wide with desire. “Oh, I prefer people who are uninhibited and unpredictable. Who go on dates on the spur of the moment, and do things they've never done before.”

As Anthea stroked Molly's cheek, she leaned in and brushed her lips across Molly's—who whimpered in surprise but welcomed Anthea, parting her lips to say-- seek more. Anthea accepted the invitation, stroking Molly's lower lip with her tongue.

Molly reached her hands to Anthea's back, pulling her in closer, and then dipped one hand to the lush arse and brought one around so her thumb could stroke Anthea's breast. Her thumb grazed the hard nipple pushing through the silk top, and Anthea moaned into the kiss. Molly circled the hard nub, touching it the way she liked to touch herself.

“I can't do this here,” Anthea whispered into Molly's ear, her breath sensual and arousing. “I have a public image that Mycroft insists I maintain.”

“Can we go to my home?” Molly asked, looking at Anthea's eyes and at those lips...Anthea's fingers flew over the Blackberry's keyboard, and then signed the bar receipt. Taking Molly's hand, they left amid a flurry of offers for drinks and dinner by handsome stockbrokers and government gentlemen. Molly provided her address to their chauffer and Anthea provided the seclusion, raising the privacy screen. 

She slid closer to Anthea. “Can I kiss you again,” she said, and leaned in, her lips grazing the other woman's. “I don't live far from here. You _will_ come upstairs won't you?” Her warm breath tickled Anthea's ears and neck, and a small shiver of anticipation ran across her body.

“Oh God, yes,” Anthea pulled Molly back for a full kiss, with teeth and tongue. She tucked her fingers down into the waistband of Molly's trousers, looking for more.

A knock on the privacy screen indicated they'd reached the building. Molly grabbed Anthea's hand and ran barefoot up the front stairs having left the Blahniks in the Mercedes. She stopped long enough to unlock the building's front door. Up a flight and to Molly's door; as she tried to get the key into the lock, Anthea slipped her arms around Molly's waist, sliding up under the front of the shirt.

“I love that you have no bra on, you naughty girl,” Anthea laughed.

“You've no room to talk,” Molly said, as she turned and slid her hand over Anthea's inseam. “You're not wearing knickers!”

“Mmmmhmmm. And it's so good,” Anthea wiggled her hips, and kissed Molly, biting her lip and then kissing the small bruise.

They almost fell through the heavy front door as it swung open. Anthea wasted no time, taking off her jacket and depositing it and her purse on the nearest chair. “Come here now. I need. You.”

She unzipped Molly's jeans and slid them down her hips, leaving her knickers in place. Molly stepped out of the pants, adjusting her knickers so they fit perfectly over her arse.

“Luscious,” Anthea said, catching her tongue between her lips. She slipped Molly's shirt over her head. Anthea stared at the doctor, bare breasted in only her string bikini knickers and slowly walked around Molly, praising what she saw. What she touched. She kissed Molly's shoulder blade, and raised goose bumps on Molly's arms. Her already hard nipples tightened with the kiss. Running her hands over Molly's arse, she squeezed and with her finger, teased near the crease. Molly clearly enjoyed the touches.

“One more thing,” Anthea slid the elastic out of Molly's hair, releasing it to cascade over her shoulders. Much longer than it looked put up, the hair grazed both nipples, and Molly moaned at the tickle.

Anthea cradled Molly's face in her hands, kissing under the ear, nipping enough to bruise, and then down her neck. Clavicle. Chest. Breast. Circling the nipple with her kisses. Not moving her mouth from its blessing, she looked up at Molly, who had thrown her head back revealing her long, pale neck. Anthea debated whether to move back to that gorgeous skin or stay right here. Eyes closed and tongue licking her lips, Molly was obviously lost in Anthea's ministrations. Molly’s passion made the decision easy for Anthea. She stopped teasing her lover, drawing her tongue over the nipple, flat first, and then again with a flick. Molly whispered Anthea's name and a yes.

“Oh, you liked that,” Anthea said, and Molly moaned her answer.

After attending to both breasts, Anthea moved down Molly's belly, licking and kissing her sharp hip bone, lower, and flicked her tongue at Molly's clit. The doctor's knees buckled, and she caught herself with one hand on the foyer wall and one on Anthea's head as she knelt in prayer.

“Let's, um,” Molly said with ragged breaths, “my bed.” She twined their fingers to lead them down the hall.

Molly loved her bedroom, choosing to design it like the bedrooms in her Grandmother's summer cottage from her childhood. She had happy memories of that cabin, playing in the surrounding woods, swimming in the lake, climbing trees with her brother and sister. She had searched antique stores to find a white iron bed frame for her double mattress, and a hand stitched quilt. She loved the pattern, Grandmother's Flower Garden, and the once vibrant colors now pale with age. Precious few men had made it this far into Molly's flat; Anthea was the first woman. 

Molly led Anthea into the bedroom, and switched on the bedside lamp. “Ohhh. All the better to see you,” Anthea growled as she kissed Molly's bottom lip, nipping it with her teeth, before kissing the bite. Molly returned the kiss, pressing her tongue against Anthea's lips, asking for entry and with it granted, Molly lightly flicked her tongue against Anthea's, who hummed her approval and desire.

“Too many clothes,” Molly said, unzipping Anthea's tight jeans. She took a second to squeeze her arse, separating her slightly, and running a finger through the cleft.

“Ohhhh,” Anthea moaned. “You know a thing or two.”

“Everyone underestimates the quiet girl,” Molly said, sliding to her knees to help remove Anthea's pants. One foot, the other foot, the jeans off and away. Molly buried her face between Anthea's legs, kissing her thighs, licking up her inner thigh, taking in her scent. Anthea smelled of vanilla and jasmine and passion.

Molly flicked her tongue upward, rewarded with a generous moan. “Lay on the bed and I can do better,” Molly offered. Anthea helped Molly up and scooped her into another long, soft kiss, tasting herself on Molly's tongue. She caressed Molly's arms, her thin back, feeling the small knobs of her spine, running her hands up Molly's side.

“That feels good but it tickles,” she said, her nipples hard from the caresses. She turned to the bed, and pulled the duvet down, fluffing the pillows. Patting the bed, she said to Anthea, “Come here,” and sat on the edge of the bed.

Anthea instead straddled Molly's thighs, looking for perfect friction. She rubbed her clit in long, slow strokes on Molly's thigh, calling out “Oh my GOD, YES.” Molly grabbed Anthea's arse and kneaded it with her hands while her mouth found her breast, kissing until she had the thick, hard nipple in her mouth. Nipping at it, flicking it with her tongue. Each of Anthea's moans, each time Anthea's back arched in pleasure, Molly smiled and nipped a little harder.

While Molly sucked on Anthea's nipple, pulling at it, twisting it with her small bite, her fingers pinching the other. The myriad sensations commingled, coalescing at her clit.

“Oh my God, Oh my God, stop or I'm going to come right here. Right now,” Anthea gasped, but didn't let go of the back of Molly's head. Her hand kept Molly's beautiful mouth right where it was.

Molly looked up at Anthea, her head down, eyes closed, mouth open. She switched breasts to suckle the right one, allowing her finger to stroke the stimulated left nipple, to graze it, to rub circles on the nipple itself.

“Oh my God,” Anthea moaned, moving her hips faster, more insistently, over Molly's wet thigh, “I'm going to... don't stop...don't you dare stop...oh. MY. GOD.” Anthea keened and drew Molly's head even closer to the breast, more forcibly, her orgasm shredding her.

As her throbbing slowed, she released Molly's head, instead stroking her fingers through the long brown hair that hung down Molly's back. Anthea stepped back from Molly. “You are amazing,” she said, reaching down with her left fingers to slide her fingers through the slick moisture on Molly's thigh.

She brought her fingers to Molly's lips.

Molly opened her lips and took the fingers into her mouth, using her tongue, tasting her lover. She worked those fingers with her tongue as if they were a cock. “You should be illegal,” Anthea said, her breathing finally normal again, kissing Molly. Anthea's kiss was gentle and slow, but Molly was too hot, too needy. She kissed back, harder, pushing, her desire making her more forceful than she'd ever been with any man.

“It's okay baby. I know. I know,” Anthea said, caressing Molly's body tenderly. She led Molly to the pillows on the mattress, positioning her with her legs splayed. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

Molly's hands roamed her breasts, grazing her nipples, pinching them. She sucked her finger, and stroked the wetness over the nipple, moaning at her need. Her hands caressed her belly, reaching for her own desire.

“No love. That's for me to do. My tongue? A dildo? A vibrator?" Anthea asked, kissing Molly's knee. She raised Molly's toned calf, so smooth, smelling of the strawberry shower gel, and kissed the arch of Molly's foot, laying a small kiss on each of her pedicured nails.  

Molly pointed to her dresser. "In the top drawer. My vibrator. That and your tongue." She watched Anthea walk across the room. She wanted those long legs wrapped around her. 'I need to buy a strap on--' and that thought itself almost threw Molly over to orgasm.

Vibrator in hand, Anthea straddled Molly's waist. She kissed Molly's belly. The side of her breast. Her clavicle. Up her neck to Molly's pulse. Kissing, nipping, breaking the skin enough to bruise.

Molly writhed beneath her, trying to stoke her clit on something. "Dammit. Fuck me!"

"Shhhh baby. Slow. We have all night," Anthea stroked Molly's hair, her face, her fingers trailing down her neck to the hard pink nubs waiting to be sucked. Anthea flipped on the vibrator's switch, and brushed it over one nipple while she sucked and flicked the other. Molly silence surprised her.

“Baby?” Anthea opened her eyes to be sure that Molly was okay. Her mouth stood open, her eyes close. Her face registered both passion and pain.

Anthea repositioned herself between Molly's legs, kissing her inner thighs and moving slowly up while she stroked the outer thighs. She spread Molly and slowly drew small circles with the vibrator over her clit. Molly broke her silence with a deep moan. Arched back, she slowly drew her hips down and up again, the vibrator offering the friction that she desperately needed.

Through her ragged breathing, Molly begged, “Please. More. Inside.” Anthea obeyed and slipped the vibrator slowly through Molly's wetness, inside, sending a shiver of pleasure through her.

“God, you are so wet. If you had a thick dildo, I'd fuck you so hard. I'd make you come that way,” Anthea said, drawing the vibrator out and pushing it back in as slowly as she could without driving Molly mad.

“Please make me come, please. Please,” Molly begged, passion mixing with need.

Anthea gathered her hair and flipped it over her shoulder and out of her way. She spread Molly's legs, draping them over her shoulders so that she could get the best angle. She buried her nose and mouth in Molly's wetness, tonguing her clit with short flicks interspersed with long slow pulls.

From experience, she knew that she was good...damn good...at licking and bringing her partner to orgasm, and Molly was almost there. Anthea moved down, and tongue fucked Molly, while her nose rubbed Molly's clit.

“I'm going...Oh my God, I'm gonna...Oh Fucking Jesus, I...”

Molly's orgasm burst through her, and Anthea continued to lave, until Molly's body settled and breathed deeply. She had thrown her arm over her eyes, covering them, smiling and purring.

Anthea moved back up the bed, and brushed her lips against Molly's, pressing her tongue against Molly's lips. Molly opened and slid her tongue over Anthea's lip, tasting herself.

She broke the kiss and said, “I've never tasted myself.”

“You taste amazing,” Anthea said, and drew her back into deeper kisses. She snuggled in close to Molly, kissing and touching, and eventually both fell asleep, sated and happy.

Anthea cracked open an eye, trying to make sense of the bedside clock. 

“Good morning, baby,” she said to Molly. She kissed Molly's cheek and nuzzled her jaw.

“My head,” Molly groaned quietly. “What time is it?”

“Almost seven. We only slept a few hours, but it was worth it,” Anthea said with a smile.

“Shhh. Don't smile so loudly,” Molly covered her eyes, but still smiled. “Oh fuck! I have to get to work. I have an 8:30am meeting with Lestrade to talk about the post mortem findings...” Molly jumped out of bed as quickly as she dared with this hangover. She rounded the bed, and kissed Anthea's hair, stroking the woman's breasts and down her naked torso, teasing her.

“Tease,” Anthea fussed. “Do you have time for...”

“I really don't, because I didn't finish my report last night,” she said, flicking her tongue over Anthea's nipples, and watching them harden in response.

“We could get together again,” Anthea said, “if you'd like...”

“I would like,” Molly smiled. She quickly planted a kiss between Anthea's legs, and headed for the bathroom.

“I'll let myself out,” Anthea said, stretching and moving from the bed, gathering her few clothes. She could hear Molly singing as the shower water ran.

At 8:30am, DI Lestrade entered the morgue with Sherlock and John Watson in tow.

'ShitShitShitShit!' Molly knew Sherlock would deduce every bit of last night. To waylay him, she began the meeting as quickly as she could. “Detective Lestrade, I have the information you asked for...”

“Can we wait a few more? I'm expecting Mycroft Holmes,” Lestrade said.

Molly said, “Okay” and tried to stay out of deduction range by working at her desk.  

“You look well Molly,” Sherlock's voice, deep and dark, draped itself over her, searching for her secrets.

“I am, Sherlock. Thank you,” she answered blandly.

“Good night's sleep?” he asked, that one damn eyebrow raised as he looked at her.

“Terrific, thank you,” she smiled.

“Here we are,” Lestrade said. Sherlock opened his mouth to grouse, but Lestrade headed off the oncoming storm. “Stuff it Sherlock. I invited Mycroft. I think he will have some insight into this case.”

Molly turned to the door as Mycroft walked in, followed by Anthea, attached to her Blackberry, sending texts and receiving emails. Molly almost dropped the stack of files in her hands.

“Molly,” Lestrade said. “You've met Mycroft Holmes, haven't you?” She barely nodded as she extended her hand.

Mycroft turned to his assistant. “Anthea, have you met Molly Hooper?”

Anthea extended her hand to shake Molly's. “Yes, I have,” Anthea said politely. “The pleasure was all mine.”

 


End file.
